


Standard Quarantine Protocols

by fleet_of_red



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Angst, Dimension Travel, M/M, Not What It Looks Like, Quarantine, Self-Esteem Issues, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 12:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20291440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleet_of_red/pseuds/fleet_of_red
Summary: Tension rises as Dick and Jason are forced into a quarantine together after being exposed to a foreign contamination. Takes place before Jason has been fully accepted back into the family.“Dick smiles. A genuine smile that reaches the twinkle in his eyes. At this distance, Jason feels as if he can stare into those blue pools and drown. Death should not feel this good.”





	Standard Quarantine Protocols

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).

> Written for @Overratedantihero as part of the JayDick Summer Exchange 2019. The prompt I chose was "Dick and Jason are forced into a quarantine together."

“Why me?” 

Dick isn’t surprised at the callous demand for answers. Why should he be? When it comes to Jason, nothing is easy. 

The pair stand atop a skyscraper in Gotham as dawn tints the sky a lighter shade of indigo. Dick maintains a comfortable distance from Jason, far enough that he had to raise his voice lest the wind tunnels drown it out. It took some effort to track down the Red Hood, and Dick isn’t about to spook him off...at least, not until he replies with a firm ‘no’ to the idea of partnering up for this mission. 

“Why me?” 

The question itself is simple enough were it asked by anyone else, but Dick knows better. He can hear Jason’s unspoken questions provoking him, daring him to bring them to light. To be fair, Dick isn’t sure if it was a good idea to seek out the stray Bat so soon after his fallout with Bruce. It’s been almost half a year since Jason has returned from the dead, and while all parties are unsure of where they stand, there’s nonetheless a truce: as long as Jason doesn’t kill, he has permission to operate in Gotham. But it’s still a long way from having brunches together at the manor on Sundays. 

Dick weights the first few words of an answer on the tip of his tongue, then swallows them like bitter pills. 

It makes sense that Bruce sees this mission as an opportunity to bring Jason back into the fold, but there’s a reason why the man didn’t approach Jason with the request himself, opting for Dick to propose it instead. It’s the same reason Dick wouldn’t tell Jason that Bruce was behind the partnership in the first place. 

“Don’t you have anyone else you can ask?” Jason snorts, his eyes squinting with suspicion. The young man drapes his arms on the banister rail behind him with a growing impatience. “I figured  _ all _ your friends and allies would jump at the chance to help the Golden Boy.”

Great, so that’s how it’s going to be, Dick mentally groans. His first instinct is to react to the passive-aggressive comment in kind, or at least tell Jason that he’d too have friends to depend on if he didn’t push everyone away. Then again, this is the kid whose best friend during his Robin days was a cold and unfeeling stone gargoyle. That kid didn’t heed his advice back then, either. 

Before Jason can open his mouth and repeat his initial question, Dick answers him: “Because you have experience in inter-dimensional travel, and that’s a relevant skill for this mission.” 

There, the simple truth, even if it’s not the entire truth. Besides, Jason’s experience with Donna and Kyle zip zapping across the multiverse  _ should  _ come in handy. Most importantly, the answer seems to satisfy the young man, who shrugs once and says, “Fine, but you owe me one, Grayson.” 

::::::::::::::::

Stray dimensional wormholes have appeared overnight, the results of an errant Star Lab experiment gone wrong. Batman and the rest of the League have been busy camouflaging them from civilian eyes and stemming the spread of these portals. They were lucky. The portals were caught early, and so far, no one from either world has crossed over by accident. Still, some of the lab equipment nearby the initial opening were teleported to the other side, and it’s up to Dick and Jason to retrieve them. 

They were told (twice) to minimize engagement with locals on the other side, hostile or not. There will be no meeting alternate versions of people they know, no deep revelations or glimpses into  _ what if’s _ this time...just get in, grab the stuff, and return the way they came. A glorified delivery job, in Jason’s opinion. 

“Alright, this should be the last piece,” Dick confirms, securing the misplaced fragment of electronic in a knapsack. “Let’s head back home.”

Right.  _ Home _ . The word churns Jason’s stomach. There’s no doubt in his mind that Bruce had a hand in this mission, down to the rehearsed answer Dick gave him. No, the only question is whether or not he passed the test. There’s always a test: could they still trust him to toe the line, follow the rules? Actually, the real question is why Jason even entertained this mission in the first place. A gesture of goodwill, he supposes, one that might get the old man off his back. Wishful thinking, but still. 

Jason wonders what Dick would report at the mission debrief, but he doesn’t care enough to stick around to find out. Not when they’ll most likely report to Batman. No, never again. He wasn’t working for Nightwing, or Batman, or the Justice League this time. This was a favor, one he intends to collect soon. Even as Jason steps through the portal that will return them to their original dimension, he pictures himself bailing without saying goodbye. 

The portal door fizzles and shuts off behind him, but it’s not the brightly lit facility of Star Labs that greets him, it’s a space filled with rolls of dense fog in every direction. Jason can’t even determine the size of the room, if it is indeed a room. There's no written guide for inter-dimensional travel, but this new development has him on instant alarm. 

“Nightwing?” Jason calls out, trying to gauge his partner’s location. The fog is so dense he can barely see his hand, nevermind Dick, who was a few steps ahead of him. 

“Over here!” 

Jason unholsters his pistols and heads toward Dick’s location with one hand in front acting as a guiding stick. Whatever this space is, it’s empty except for the fog. The sound of his breathing is deafening within the confines of his headgear, and it does nothing to stem his rising panic. The mist intensifies in waves, dancing coyly, beckoning him to keep going. Sections of it so thick it feels like it’s pushing back, brushing against his arm like a physical caress, causing the hairs on his neck to stand on end. Jason tries to resist the wild, irrational urge of firing into the unknown, and that’s when he hears Dick gasp then scream.

“Nightwing!” Jason dashes to the source of the scream and finds himself fumbling through thin air. He extends his arms in a desperate attempt to grab something, anything, that could slow his fall. The struggle was short-lived. His back slams into a hard surface, the impact knocking the air out of him. If he weren’t wearing his helmet, he’s sure the whiplash would’ve knocked him right the fuck out. He opens his eyes gingerly, half expecting to see more of that damn fog, but all he can see are the white ceiling lights of a laboratory and a shadow looming over him. 

Batman. 

“Why are you--what’s happening?” Jason mumbles as his vision swims. Surprisingly, after the unscheduled stop in the foggy dimension, Batman’s presence here doesn’t alarm him. Quite the opposite. Jason can feel his tense muscles relax back onto the floor. Whatever happens, or has happened, Bruce is here. He can take care of it. Jason doesn’t even resist as gloved fingers reach down to unclasp his helmet, somehow avoiding all the custom security measures he built into it while doing so. 

The helmet hisses as it’s released. “Focus your eyes on the light,” Batman says, shining a small flashlight in his face. 

“‘M fine,” Jason grunts and tries to wave the invasive light off his face. That’s when he realizes his wrists are restrained together in a pair of cuffs and that his guns are missing. “What the hell is this?” 

“Easy, Red Hood,” Batman shushes him. Bruce calling him by his alias didn’t escape his notice. Now that he has a moment to collect himself, Jason can see a couple of Justice League members just behind Bruce, ready to step in if needed. “We have reason to believe that one or both of you were exposed to a foreign contamination before your return back through the portal.”

“C-contamination? What the fuck!” A shiver runs down his spine as he renews his effort to break free. As he twists around, he sees Dick, lying on the ground just a few feet away, unconscious. “Dick? Dick!” 

Strong hands grip his shoulders, holding him still. He can see the downturned corners of Bruce’s lips, no doubt disapproving of the outburst. There might be people there not informed of Nightwing’s true identity, and Jason knew he shouldn’t have called Dick by name, but right now, he doesn’t give a damn about Batman and his protocols. “Dick!” 

“Stop struggling,” Batman reprimands. He reaches for something from his tool belt just beyond Jason’s line of sight. “We detected a third, unidentified presence as you and Nightwing dropped through the portal. We need to quarantine you until we can run some tests. Now, stay still.” 

Before Jason can protest, he feels the sting of a syringe plunging into the side of his neck. Right before his vision fades to black, he saw a glimpse of Bruce’s eyes...and they looked worried. 

:::::::::

  
The sound of a nearby shuffle wakes him. Strange, there are security measures in place so no one can sneak into his safe house while he sleeps. Then Jason remembers his predicament. Right. Contamination. Quarantine. Fuck. 

“You look well-rested,” Dick comments. Blue eyes stare at him with concern, even if his tone is casual. “You were out for so long I was beginning to get worried.”

Relief washes over Jason. When he saw Dick’s body on the ground, after the fog and the scream, he had expected the worst. “What can I say? I do love my chemically induced unconsciousness,” Jason replies wryly and pushes himself up from the cot. 

They’re no longer in their respective blue and red gears, replaced by plain black shirts and grey sweatpants instead. Jason thinks they might as well be wearing orange jumpsuits. He trails his eyes down to his wrists and sighs. At least his hands are no longer restrained. 

He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. His hair is dry, but he picks up the scent of soap and shampoo. Bruce must’ve hosed them off while they were “out”. The thought of Bruce (perhaps in a hazmat suit, Jason pictures, not knowing the exact nature of the contamination) wrestling with his unconscious form while cleaning him with a hose distresses him. But embarrassment soon turns to indignation. Good. Maybe the old man got a good look at all his new scars, including the ones  _ he _ left on him. 

He makes a mental note to check himself for tracking devices under his skin once he’s free and begins to examine his new living arrangement. 

The whole thing is less than 250 square feet, by the looks of it. The material of the wall doesn’t seem of earth origin. It’s smooth and opaque, but he bet whoever is on the other side can see them just fine. He runs his fingers along the wall, looking for seams or any indication of a weak point. None. Jason punches the wall with his fist. The wall barely vibrated, let alone crack. 

“I’ve already explored our...new accommodation while you were asleep,” Dick raises his voice. “Doesn’t seem like there’s an easy way out, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“Right, and you’re telling me that after I bruised my hand? Thanks.” 

“I cannot read your mind,” Dick grins ever so helpful. 

Jason ignores him and continues to catalog the room. He’s sure Bruce has taken every percussion to make escape impossible, but that doesn’t mean he’s just going to sit there and twiddle his thumbs like Dick. 

In one corner of the cell, there is a small sink, toilet, and shower. There’s even a row of non-descript toiletries sitting on the top of the sink like some fucked up version of what you’d see in a hotel room. Even beyond the lack of personal privacy, what scares Jason the most is the implication behind the attempts at comfort. This might not be a temporary quarantine after all.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Batman arrives, for lack of a better term, shortly after Jason starts taking his cot apart. The man spoke to them through a speaker somewhere beyond the cell, giving them an update and advising patience. For all Jason knows, Batman is not even on the same continent as them. He starts hurling profanity in the general direction of the speaker. In his rage, he only catches the tail end of Bruce’s update: “...alien in origin...hijacks its victims.” 

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Time passes. Jason is glad for Dick’s company. Not only because it alleviates boredom (would it be too much to ask for Bruce to put a TV in the cell, or even some books, at least?), but it also keeps him sane. 

When Jason first found himself in cuffs after being dropped back in this dimension, his initial thought was that this “mission” was just a ploy for Batman to recapture him. Hand him off to the authorities and make him answer for the deaths of the drug dealing scums he killed during his turf war with Black Mask. And now, if it weren’t for Dick’s presence here with him, he’d think that Bruce has decided to lock him up instead of risking his inevitable escape from Arkham or Blackgate. Better that than let a stray Bat run rampant in  _ his _ city. 

But Jason knows even if that were the case, Batman wouldn’t have locked Dick in here with him. No. Dick’s too important for this. 

His cellmate is currently in deep thought while lounging on his cot. Dick’s pose is laid back, but Jason can see the bags under his eyes. “Tired? I’m guessing your beauty sleep wasn’t as restful as mine.”

“Can you blame me?” Dick chuckles and gestures around their cell. “This isn’t exactly the hero’s welcome I was expecting.” 

“What, people usually throw you a party when you return from a mission?”

“You know what I mean, Jason.” 

“Oh, I don’t think I do. No one’s ever thrown me a  _ hero’ _ s welcome.” Jason had intended to mock Dick, but the actual delivery sounds more pathetic than sarcastic. He clears his throat and quickly changes the subject, “Where do you think we are?” 

“Hard to say when we can’t see through beyond this fish tank,” Dick replies, rapping on the opaque wall next to him with his knuckles. “We might be in one of the unused warehouses, or even in the middle of the Batcave for all I know. Look, I don’t like this situation any more than you do, but this is standard League procedure in cases of contamination after inter-dimensional travel. Batman can’t exactly be seen as playing favorites.”

“Oh no, Batman played favorites? Never,” Jason rolls his eyes and ignores the flash of discomfort over Dick’s face. “Dick, I heard you scream...in that other dimension, the one with the fog. What exactly happened?” 

“I found myself stepping through thin air. I was surprised,” Dick smiles, amused by the doubt and implication behind Jason’s question. “Why, you think I saw something? Something that might’ve infected me? Trust me, Jay, you’d be the first one to know. Besides, maybe you’re the one who has been hijacked or whatever, without knowing.”

“I’d know the difference,” Jason argues. 

“Exactly what a hijacked mind would say,” Dick smirks and head toward the shower. Jason grumbles and tries to ignore the presence of the other man as he begins to strip. 

::::::::

“Wake up, I have an idea!”

Jason opens his eyes to see Dick’s face hovering inches away. 

“Jesus! If you wanna get punched in the face, you could’ve just asked!” he yelps. His voice is still rough from sleep, even if he’s completely awake now. Without natural light, Jason can only assume it’s the middle of the night based on his biological clock and the fact his body is very unhappy at being woken up at this hour. “What, you got an escape plan?” 

“No,” Dick says, sitting down and making himself comfortable at the foot of Jason’s cot. “But we can find out if either one of us is infected.” 

“How?” Jason straightens up on the mattress then adds, “Have you been up all night thinking about this? You look like shit.” 

“Thank you,” Dick replies easily, immune to Jason’s insults through exposure. “So, I figure we can ask each other questions only the other would know.”

“You woke me up for this?” Jason cocks his head to the side and yawns. “That’s assuming a lot. We don’t even know if that’s how the contamination works.”

“You got a better plan? Besides, you’re not exactly brushing off suspicion by your reluctance.”

“Just admit it, Dick, you woke me up because you’re  _ bored _ ,” Jason groans. He then fluffs up a pillow to make himself comfortable and starts, “Alright, here’s my question: what possessed you, alien or otherwise, to wear the Nightwing suit with the low V-neck and the disco-inspired designs?” 

“I’m glad you’re taking this seriously,” Dick snorts. “Like I said, it has to be something only the other would know the answer to...like, what happened when we first met.”

“That was years ago.”

“So...you don’t remember?” Dick asks with a raised brow. 

Jason rolls his eyes and admits defeat. “Fine, I’ll humor your  _ stupid  _ game.”

“I’m listening,” Dick grins and makes a show of settling down to listen like this was some sort of slumber party instead of imprisonment for an undetermined length of time. Jason wants to shove his grinning face off the bed. 

“Okay, I had just gotten my Robin suit...I remember bumping into you and thinking you were part of a test Batman concocted,” Jason recalls the night when they officially met. “Y’know, take down the original to get my wings, that sorta initiation. Has-been versus the new and improved model.”

Dick chuckles. “He wouldn’t knowingly pit us against each other.” 

Jason shrugs non-committedly and carries on. “And you? Recall anything else from that first meeting?”

“Oh, I remember, alright. You proceeded to ignore my explanations and picked a fight with me,” Dick thinks back with a smile on his face. “It was a completely one-sided fight, of course. You barely reached my shoulders back then.” 

“Ah, now I know for sure that something has tampered with your head because it was  _ not _ a one-sided fight,” Jason finds himself matching the smile on Dick’s face. “I remember landing a few solid kicks.” 

Dick chuckles once and looks away, all humor suddenly vanished from his face. “Do you remember what I said to you later that night? While we hitched a ride on the Gotham monorail?” 

“Yeah. You said you’d drop me off at the next station if I didn’t follow your lead.”

“I also said--” Dick turns to face him again, leaning in closer than ever and whispers, “--that I wouldn’t let you fall.”

Jason breaks eye contact first, finding the sincerity in Dick’s eyes unbearable. “Okay, cool. I guess we both remember what happened. Now what?” 

“Well, now we consider other possibilities,” Dick whispers, shuffling closer until they’re sitting side by side at the head of the bed. His volume low enough that even a listening device would have a hard time picking up his voice. “If we both remember events only the other person would know, then shouldn’t we consider that maybe  _ neither _ of us are infected? Bruce said a device detected the presence of three separate individuals, but what if that was a mistake?”

“Mistake how?” Jason frowns. “Like a device malfunction or...a sabotage?”

The entire scene is surreal, with them huddled shoulder to shoulder in a cage, sharing thoughts on a conspiracy in hushed voices. Jason wonders if he’s still asleep and dreaming of this. Dick is so close he can feel his breath on his face when he talks, and the heat radiating from the other body next to his is making their small cell uncomfortably warm. Jason ignores the setting and tries to refocus on the words being said, but he only finds himself mesmerized by the movement of Dick’s lips. 

“I mean, what if it wasn’t just a mistake,” Dick continues, oblivious to Jason’s distraction. “What if  _ Batman _ is the one who’s not himself? A...a doppelganger, or an evil version of himself that slipped through during the chaos with the portals, perhaps? He’s trained us to prepare for anything, and you and me, we know him better than most. What if someone is infiltrating the Justice League as Batman and using the quarantine as an excuse to keep us out of the way?”

Jason can feel his heart drop down to his gut. “Well, if that were the case, then we are utterly fucked.” 

“Not quite,” Dick whispers. “But I’m thinking we might have to fight our way out.” 

Jason can see the lines of weariness etched on the other man’s face as well as the grim determination in his eyes. He knows how much the quarantine is affecting Dick, even if he underplays it. He must feel like he’s failing Bruce if they’ve fallen into a trap set by a mastermind claiming to be Batman. Jason understands the feeling all too well. With hesitation, he places a hand on Dick’s shoulder and gives it a comforting squeeze. 

“The next time Batman steps into the cell, we’ll overpower him and escape. Find out what’s actually happening,” Jason reassure Dick, but mostly himself. “It won’t be easy, but if we work together, we might just pull it off.” 

“Well, if I had to pick an accomplice to outmaneuver Batman and bust us out of here,” Dick breathes a sigh of relief. “You’d be pretty high on that list.” 

“Obviously.” 

::::::::

They wait and bide their time. 

With an escape plan in mind, their spirits were high. They spent hours just talking, reminiscing about their shared past. They compared which of Alfred’s recipes were their favorites (they settled on the beef roast), and shared personal anecdotes about Bruce and the rest of the family. Jason finds himself enjoying Dick’s perspective. The other man certainly has a flair for recounting the past, even if Jason suspects a certain amount of embellishments were added. It’s strange, he doesn’t remember the last time he spoke so much about things not immediately relevant to a current or upcoming mission. 

But then as the days went by without any signs of Batman, they begin to worry. The Dark Knight is more prepared or more paranoid than they thought. Nevermind stepping into the cell, he never once appeared in person. The only communication comes from a speaker, providing the occasional curt updates. The updates themselves contain no concrete information, no sign they’d ever leave the cell. Batman speaks of false leads and other priorities he needs to focus on. 

The lack of knowing what’s happening beyond the cell is making Jason restless. To keep negative thoughts at bay, he distracts himself with plans of firearm upgrades and leads on criminals, as well as doing simple exercises in the cell. Dick, on the other hand, looks like he hasn’t had a proper night’s sleep since the beginning and spends most of the time in bed. Jason finds himself in the role of a reluctant cheerleader, even when Dick’s deteriorating state terrifies him in a way words cannot describe. 

“Here’s an idea,” Jason announces after completing a set of sit-ups. “I could beat you to a pulp, then Batman would have to intervene, right? Come in, pull us apart, lecture us about trying to kill each other?” 

“Or he might just separate us into different cells,” Dick mumbles wearily from his cot. 

“While I’m sure Batman has enough cells for each and every one of his enemies  _ and _ allies, if he really wanted to keep us in separate cells, he would’ve done that from the beginning,” Jason concludes. “There must be a good reason he locked us in the same place. Maybe he thinks you have a calming influence on me or something.”

He waits for some kind of acknowledgment from Dick, a simple, sarcastic retort, but it never came. Jason whips around to face him. “Hey, are you even listening? Did you doze off?” Still, the other man remains unresponsive. 

Jason stares at the still form lying on the cot facing the wall and panic hits him. He grabs Dick’s shoulder and turns him around, “If this is some kind of immature prank, I swear I’m gonna--”

“I think I’m dying,” Dick says matter of factly. Except, he didn’t say it, not really. His mouth didn’t move, but Jason still heard Dick’s voice in his head, loud and clear. 

“What the hell?” Jason gasps, letting go of the other man. “You...what are you?” 

Dick looks tired, his face ashen and covered with sweat. Still, he forced a smile on his face as he comments, “Finally. It’s ‘bout time you figured it out.” 

“So what Batman said was true? You’re some kind of parasite stowaway from the other dimension? You knew everything,” Jason shakes his head. The panic he felt earlier gets kicked into a higher gear. “Is Dick still in there? Are you talking to him? Can he hear me?”

“I have access to Dick’s memories, that is all,” Not-Dick answers. “The process is more similar to data extraction than a conversation. I can remember events as he experienced them, but leafing through a book isn’t the same as conversing with a library.”

Jason grabs a fistful of his shirt and lifts him to his feet. “Get the fuck out of him!” he shouts, punctuating each syllable with a rough shake. 

Not-Dick doesn’t push him off, instead, he returns his gaze with an amused expression on his face. “I can’t. I don’t have a form in this world. If you forcefully extract me from this man, he will die,” he promises. “Jason, you need to convince Batman to let us leave. If you don’t, then both Dick and I will die.”

Jason flinches at hearing this creature call his name with Dick’s voice, with Dick’s face. It’s beyond unnerving. “You do not get to make demands,” he growls. “Even if you could somehow get out of here, what would you do?” 

“This body is my vehicle now. I will leave this world and seek revenge against those who abandoned me in that void dimension in the first place.” 

“Fuck that! Dick has his own life to live! You can’t just hijack his body and take all that away from him,” Jason yells in a combination of angry demand and desperate plea. But the other being remains unmoved. 

“There are your options, Jason. It’s simple, you decide whether you want to watch Dick die in this cell, or for him to leave here alive as my tool.” 

Jason’s hands start shaking and he can’t make it stop. His voice drops to a whisper, “You said he can’t survive a forceful extraction, right? What if it’s a transfer?”

“What are you saying?”

“Use me. Let Dick go.”

“Do you understand what you’re offering? My consciousness will supersede yours, you’d be nothing more than a puppet,” Not-Dick blinks in surprise. “Why?” 

“If you could read his memories, you’d know why,” Jason glares. This  _ thing _ should be grateful at the opportunity, not force him to explain something he himself barely understands. Jason struggles to get his words out. “Dick has so much more to live for. Friends, teammates...family. I don’t.” 

Not-Dick stares at him with something like almost like pity before saying, “You actually mean it. I’m not one to argue against my self-interest, but you do realize that Dick will be upset about this exchange?”

“Good,” a bitter smile appears on Jason’s face. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not doing this for some kind of altruistic reason. Dick will owe me a favor he can’t repay, and he will never forget this debt. Having that gnaw on his conscience as he lives out the rest of his  _ wonderful _ life...the very idea of me would become a parasite in his mind and the minds of everyone who has and will ever love him. A better person might mind that; I don’t.” 

Not-Dick tilts his head and studies him. “You know, back in that prison of fog,  _ you  _ were the one I wanted to take,” he admits. 

“Am I supposed to be flattered? What made you change your mind, saw someone better?”

“You were wearing a helmet,” Not-Dick smiles and cups Jason’s face with his palms. At seeing Jason’s puzzled expression, he explains, “The transfer happens orally.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jason snaps after piecing the information together. He shifts his weight in discomfort but doesn’t remove the hands on his face. 

“And allow me to share a secret with you,” the creature continues sweetly, examining the body it will soon possess. “Having had access to Dick’s memories, I can tell you that while his feelings for you might be somewhat...complicated, he has wondered on multiple occasions what it’d be like to hold you in his arms and kiss you. Does that thought comfort you, Jason? Whatever your reason for doing this, know that you’re saving someone who cares for you.”

Except, it’s not a kiss, Jason reminds himself as Not-Dick brushes the bottom of his lip with a thumb. No, it’s an oral transfer of an alien about to hijack his body, so why is he so calm? “I already agreed to this, you don’t have to insult me with lies,” Jason replies furiously. The last thing he wants right now is to blush. “Just get it over with.” 

“Then open your mind and accept me. It should only hurt if you resist,” the creatures coos. “It’ll feel just like you’re drifting off into a deep slumber. The last thing you remember will be the kiss.” 

That’s not so bad, is it? It would be infinitely more preferable than the moments leading up to his death at the hands of Joker: alone and in agony. Compared to that, drifting off to sleep after a kiss-- _ a kiss from Dick _ \--sounds downright lovely. 

Jason allows himself one last moment of pretense before he relinquishes his body. He allows himself to feel Dick’s fingers brush loose strands of hair from his face, his arms wrap around him, pulling him closer until their faces are mere inches apart. Jason’s breath hitches as Dick leans in, but the man only plants a trail of chaste kisses along his jaw. Then Dick smiles. A genuine smile that reaches the twinkle in his eyes. At this distance, Jason feels as if he can stare into those blue pools and drown. Death should not feel this good. 

“Jason…” Dick breathes his name and Jason has to squeeze his eyes shut. Anything more and the illusion will be broken. Soft lips find his, and he feels that his whole life has been leading up to this moment. A wet tongue nudges his lips open and slides in, tasting all he has to offer. This will be the last thing I remember, Jason thinks, and surrenders himself to the kiss. 

An inhuman screech erupts in the cell. Jason snaps his eyes wide open and sees Batman in the cell with them. Almost like an out of body experience, Jason watches as Batman yanks him away from Dick while encasing him in a beam of red light. 

“You’re not getting away,” Batman hisses as Dick doubles over in the light and starts convulsing, throwing up what appears to be blood if not for the consistency of tar. The instant the substance touches the light, it fizzles, leaving a dark burn mark on the floor. 

Jason stares at them numbly as Batman checks Dick’s airway, making sure he’s breathing and slings an arm over his shoulder to lift him off the floor. “Dick, can you hear me?” Bruce asks. “It’s all over now.” It’s over. 

The ordeal has left Dick weak and shaken, but color starts to bleed back onto his face. He lifts his head weakly to look around the cell, then he spots Jason. “Jay…” 

Jason doesn’t know what Dick had intended to say or if the man even remembers anything after the fog. When Dick tries to call for him again, he manages a wet croak before an uncontrollable coughing fit comes over him, shaking his entire frame. 

“C’mon,” Bruce urges Dick, shifting more of the man’s weight over his shoulder and heads for the now-opened entrance of the cell. “We need to run a full diagnostics in the lab.” 

“Have you known this entire time?” Jason finally finds his voice...barely a whisper, but it stops Batman dead in his tracks. “Have you known this entire time?” he repeats, louder this time. 

“Not everything,” Batman retorts, looking as tired as he sounds. “I knew something was controlling Dick and that it could be destroyed with certain spectrums of light, but only when it presents itself.”

“Destroy? You mean  _ kill _ , right?” Jason stares at the burnt spot on the ground and realizes he doesn’t even know the creature’s name. 

“It had no corporeal form,” Bruce explains. “It was intelligent, but in the same way a virus takes over a host body.”

“And what was I?” Jason asks in an eerily quiet tone. “Bait?” 

Bruce narrows his eyes. “I had to convince the thing that it had a chance to escape, that we didn’t even know which one of you had been hijacked. Otherwise, it might’ve lashed out and hurt Dick. It remained awake the entire time in quarantine, but once it has been weakened to the point where Dick falls unconscious, I would’ve been able to extract it safely.” Batman argues, “I hadn’t expected it to reveal itself to you, nor you offering to trade places with Dick. That was stupid and reckless.” 

Jason sucks in a breath like he’s been punched. He stares at the ground, furious with himself. Furious and embarrassed. How could he have been so blind? So willing to believe a  _ fantasy  _ that Dick could care for him that he ignored all the signs? Pathetic. From the corner of his eyes, he can see Dick tugging on Batman’s arm, trying to say something but unable to get the words out. 

“If it was me instead...if  _ I _ was the one hijacked,” Jason says, not meeting Bruce’s eyes. “I doubt you would’ve gone with the same plan.” 

“What are you trying to say, Jason?” Bruce warns him with Batman’s voice, the one used for intimidation. It provokes a smirk from Jason instead, who squares his shoulders and lowers his center of gravity into a defensive position. For a moment, it seems like the verbal confrontation might turn physical, but then Dick pulls his arm from Batman and steps in between them, his face pale but determined. 

Jason deflates with a sigh. “I just want to get as far away from here as possible.” 

“You’ll find your gear and guns in the metal case upstairs,” Bruce replies coolly, not letting his guard down. Jason walks past them toward the door. 

“W-wait, Jason…” Dick’s voice is hoarse but Jason cannot risk hearing what he has to say. He narrowly avoids stepping on the burnt mark on the ground and sprints out of the open cell. Dick screams after him, the words themselves indecipherable but the meaning behind them clear. Jason runs faster and faster until Dick’s cries are swallowed up by the sound of his own thundering heart. 

**Author's Note:**

> This particular version of their first meeting came from the Nightwing comic, issues #105-106.


End file.
